


home from the wars

by Teaotter



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Domestic, F/M, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-03
Updated: 2008-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen and Rhys, any ordinary evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home from the wars

Gwen pulled the front door closed softly, trying to minimize the loud click of the latch in the silence of the flat. All the lights were off, except the cheerful little yellow bulb over the stove. She didn't turn it off. The wind was still high from the storm earlier, rattling the screens intermittently, and the light was the only thing that made the flat feel solid.

She took off her shoes and walked in her sock feet into the bedroom. There were more shadows here, all over, with just enough light coming in to make out the paleness of Rhys's face, half-buried in her pillow. He fell asleep on her side of the bed again. Gwen couldn't help smiling at the length of him stretched out, one hand dropped palm-up, fingers curled. She slid out of her clothes as quietly as she could and sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress.

Rhys was a deep sleeper most nights, whether he wanted to be or not, and he didn't move when the mattress sagged. She lifted up the covers and lay down in the tiny space he'd left her. The bed was warm with the indefinable smell of [em[home[/em], and she wanted to wrap it around herself and never let go. But there wasn't quite enough space to be comfortable, so she nudged him with her elbow. He made a soft sighing noise and rolled over a bit, enough for her to squeeze in behind him, at any rate. She edged one arm around him and promptly fell asleep.

She woke up disoriented, her heart pounding, the dream already slipping away. She'd rolled back over in her sleep, facing the alarm clock. Rhys was pressed behind her, his hand resting on her ribcage. She could tell from the lazy movements of his fingers that he was awake, too, the kind of middle-of-the-night waking that neither of them may remember in the morning. In the perfectly normal way.

"You're home." His voice is sleepy, muffled against her shoulder. She'd think he was going back to sleep, if his hand weren't still moving, in a path she's gotten used to -- the tiny bullet wound scar, down her hip to the smooth burn mark from a flame-breathing Atshenkite -- she shifted underneath him enough to interrupt his catalogue of her old wounds.

Rhys sighed into her hair. "Saved the world again, eh?"

She took his hand and tucked it up under her chin, eyes firmly closed again. "Mmmm. Never doubt it."

"Never will," he said softly, love and worry clear in his voice as he pulled her closer.

Gwen kept herself awake as he settled back down, wanting to remember the way his grip softened, the way his breathing shifted as he fell back asleep. She waited until he was snoring softly to reach for her alarm clock. She changed the settings so that it was set a few minutes before his. She needed just enough extra time in the morning to sneak into the kitchen and have the toast done before he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a TW3 rpg.


End file.
